


A Shift in Routine

by mosylu



Series: Socially Awkward Penguins Fail At Love [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Filling In the Gaps, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Socially Awkward Penguins Have No Idea What's Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: It's the perfect arrangement - two best friends who have sex sometimes. Simple, right?So why is Caitlin feeling so complicated about it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I was reading through this series (what do you mean none of you does that?) and I realized that there was a missing story in the middle that needed writing. Or maybe I just wanted to write some smut and angst and stuff. That’s possible too. 
> 
> Because the rest of the series was written between ten and twenty months ago, it doesn’t conform to current canon one little bit.

When Caitlin came into the living room, Cisco was studying two DVD cases on the coffee table like they were the Dead Sea Scrolls. “Okay,” he said without looking up. “So, I’ve narrowed it down to _Plan 9 from Outer Space_ or _Galaxy Quest_ , but it was a hard battle and I’m totally stymied. You’re going to have to break the tie here.”

She slid onto the couch next to him and leaned into his arm. He looked over, and his brows went up as he realized she’d unbuttoned three of the buttons on her pretty green blouse and was fiddling with the fourth one, just under her breasts.

“Or we could do something else first,” she said.

It had been a long day, on top of a long week, and movie night at Cisco’s for the two of them had seemed such a natural conclusion to all the chaos that they’d taken longer to discuss the pizza toppings than whether they should do it at all.

Of course, these days, movie night generally included something besides movies and junk food. But not usually until after.

“Or we could do something else first,” he agreed, voice husky.

She leaned forward and kissed him, and his hand slipped inside her shirt as he kissed her back. She felt him smile as he discovered the front fastening of her bra (“best kind!” he always said. “I don’t understand anyone who designs them different,”) and flicked it open.

They’d been sleeping together casually for a couple of months by now (“just a thing we do,” she said, “it doesn’t have to be complicated,” he said), and he knew just where to touch her, how to run his knuckles over her nipple through her bra to make her sigh. In return, she knew how to suck his lower lip, how to caress the outer edge of his ear so he groaned low in his throat.

She tugged his shirt up, running her nails lightly over his stomach and feeling him shudder against her. She pushed his shirt up further and tugged it over his head. He finger-combed his hair back out of his eyes and pulled her close to kiss her again.

He finished unbuttoning her shirt and pushed it back over her shoulders. She shrugged it down her arms and tossed it away, but let him slide her bra off so he could bow his head and take her nipple into his mouth. She pressed her nose into the top of his head, smelling his shampoo, and kissed his hair.

He switched sides, swirling his tongue so she whimpered. She ran her hand down his front and settled it in his lap, her palm curved over the swelling of his cock. She stroked him through the material of his cords until it strained with the pressure of his erection, and his hips pushed up into her hand with every movement. Then she unzipped his pants, and he paused to lever his hips up so she could shove them partway down his thighs. When her hand closed over his cock, he groaned against her skin, his breath warm.

His free hand slid up her thigh, sneaking under the hem, sliding up until he found her naked dampness. “Hey,” he murmured against her neck. “Forget something?”

“I put them in my purse just now.”

“Thinking ahead?”

“Mmmhm.” She dug in the tiny pocket of her skirt and pulled out a condom, retrieved from her purse when she’d put her underwear in. It was his favorite brand. She carried them now, tucked away into a secret compartment.

He took it, giving her a kiss, and put it on. She went up on her knees, pulling her skirt up above her hips, and straddled his lap. He settled his hands on her hips and let his head drop against the back of the couch, watching her with dark, dark eyes as she shifted herself into position and sank down onto his cock.

They both let out sighs.

He always felt so _good_ inside her.

She rolled her hips against him and leaned down to press their mouths together. One of his hands came up and tunneled into her hair, holding her close to kiss deeply, tongues and teeth and hot breath as she rocked, tiny intense movements that lapped warm pleasure all over her body.  

“Mmmm,” he groaned. “Caitlin, god, that feels - ”

“Yes,” she sighed, running her teeth over the prickle of his jaw and down the cords of his neck. He made a choked noise and his hips bucked up into hers.

He went back to her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, but when he rested his head in the curve of her shoulder and moaned, she knew they were almost done.

She pressed her hand against the back of the couch, locking her elbow for better leverage, and fucked him harder. His fingers dug into her hips, helping her move, and he gasped out, “Are you close?”

Unable to form words, she nodded, and he moved one hand from her hip to where they were joined, curling his fingers into a fist and resting one knuckle against her clit so when her hips moved she pressed right into it.

She arched into her climax with a cry, shuddering, whimpering, as the waves hit her. Somewhere in there, she heard her own name, muffled against her skin, as he came too.

They sank together, her arms draped around his neck, his slung around the small of her back, both of them soft and loose from good sex. She curled into his shoulder, combing her fingers through the ends of his hair, feeling the thud of his heart slowing down in time with hers.

He ran his hand down her calf and cupped his hand around the arch of her foot. She squirmed a little - she was ticklish there, and he’d been known to take advantage of that. But he pressed his thumb into the arch and massaged, and she sighed. Her shoes today hadn’t quite been broken in. He must have noticed her limping. He kissed her under her ear and did the same with her other foot. 

After some minutes, he dropped his hands, and she lifted her head. He kissed her lightly. “That was nice.”

She smiled at him. “Let’s watch Galaxy Quest.”

“Okay.”

She climbed off him and went to clean herself up. He always let her use the bathroom first afterwards, a little kindness that went along with all his other kindnesses, both in bed and out.

She peed, put all her clothes back on, and studied her hair critically in the mirror. The style she’d done this morning was pretty done for, between their long day and Cisco’s fingers just now. She took the pins out, ran a brush through it a few times, and wove it into a braid that didn’t look actually hideous.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. Suddenly, she pressed her hands to her mouth.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You didn’t wear waterproof mascara and he’ll know even if you wash your face. Don’t cry._

She didn’t even know why, just that the tears were welling up in her throat and had been ever since he’d said, _that was nice._

It had been nice. It had been great, in fact, even for them, and they were very good together. Why did she suddenly want to curl into a ball and sob?

From the other side of the door, Cisco called out, “Hey, you fall in?”

She gasped, swallowed, and said, “No, I’m almost out, I’m just - lipstick.”

“Ohhhhkaaaay,” he said in a way that meant, _I have no idea why you want to put lipstick on when it’s just us, but you do you._

“I’ll be right out. Can you check the popcorn? I’m smelling burnt.”

After a few moments, he yelled from the kitchen, “Yep. Burnt. Want me to put another bag in?”

“Please,” she yelled back, blotting her newly applied lipstick and then using the same square of toilet paper to dab at her eyes. _Breathe, Caitlin_ : in, out.

In. Out.

Okay. Fine. She was fine.

She came out and said, “You have the most temperamental microwave.”

He waggled his brows. “Hey, I’m not the one who distracted us.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope.” He grinned at her and went into the bathroom.

She looked at the shut door for a moment, then went into his kitchen and leaned on the counter. She listened to the corn popping, and pressed her hands to her stomach.

_Maybe we should stop,_ she thought, and her stomach lurched with panic.

Give this up? His hands and his mouth and his arms around her and the brain-bending pleasure of being with him? No. No, no, no, no, no.

This - this _thing_ they were doing? This adding sex to their usual routine? It was supposed to be simple and casual. And she loved it, and he loved it, and it was working. It was.

But whatever she was feeling, it was very, _very_ complicated.

FINIS


End file.
